From Fantasy to Reality
by buffygl87
Summary: A story of a teenage girl who wishes for something that doesn't exist, however forcing it to do so. Sarah x Erik - sort of.. You'll see.
1. Dream to Live

            Glittering in candlelight, the room seemed to be hushed in night's whisper. Its inhabitant no different; dressed simply in pajamas and staring into a rather ornate mirror positioned at her eye level. Hazel green eyes stared defiantly back towards their owner, as if daring them to do anything not of the ordinary. Sighing in utter defeat, the girl makes a sweeping action of her hand against her own face in the mirror. "I love you."

            Now you're probably wondering who precisely this girl is, and what exactly she's doing telling her own reflection words of love. Well, to start, her name is Sarah. And well, she isn't vain. In fact, she's far from it. Judging from the utter lack of makeup and hairspray displayed on her bureau, I'd tell you she's a very modest person. And, oh, dear, I forgot the last tidbit of the ambiance of that room. She had been playing on her CD player, 'Angel of Music'. Does that explain anything? Probably not. You see, Sarah makes up for her lack of vanity with her amount of utter strangeness. So, to put it simply, Sarah was reaching out to that mirror to bring out something or someone whom her imagination has utterly dreamed up. Still can't guess? Well, she seems to be in love with Erik; the Phantom of the Opera. Now you think she's crazy, correct? No, she is anything but crazy. And even he said that to 'look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside'. She's just looking for him in herself, or does she really believe that he's there somewhere?

            Flicking off her CD player, Sarah flops onto her blue and yellow bed, staring at the ceiling. "You're insane, Sarah-dear," she says dryly to herself, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Utterly and completely insane. He /doesn't/ exist. Get that through your thick skull!" Wiping a hand across her forehead, absent-mindedly stares at the clock. 12:34 AM. "Make a wish," she chides herself, and then dutifully shuts her eyes.

"I wish that he WERE real. That he would learn to overcome his past, with MY help." Opening one eye and hoping, she once again offers the familiar sigh before clicking on her TV and turning on her DVD player. "Well, if I can't be with him, I can watch him." And once again, the familiar face of Erik fills her TV screen, and she sigh dreamily before slipping into slumber. 

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            A familiar call of, "Sarah, time to get up. And hurry up, we're running late this morning," rings throughout the girl's sleep-heavy head. Lifting herself up, she yawns loudly and rubs her eyes. Focusing on her computer desk, as that was where her head was turned, she blinks and rubs them again. For standing beside her computer desk was a very darkly dressed man, whose face was covered by a simple mask. 

            Catching her rude stares, the man clears his throat and makes a sort of mini-bow. "Mademoiselle."

            "Oh my freakin' God," Sarah says, still staring at the man and occasionally rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing in my room? Oh my God! What if Mum finds you in here? Oh this is not good, not good at all." Looking completely helpless her mother calls from the bathroom and she has no choice but to obey. Getting up, she shrugs towards him. "Uhh, stay right here, would you?"

            The man doesn't seem to take much notice of her, and seems more interested in her computer and television than what the frantic girl is saying. "But of course Mademoiselle." Pausing, he whirls upon her unexpectedly and gives her a very chilling stare. "What am I doing here?"

            Laughing slightly uneasily as she grabs her clothes and offers a wave. "I'll explain what I can when I get back from taking a shower."

            Fifteen to twenty minutes pass and Erik seems to be utterly flabbergasted by his surroundings. That's when, to whether his displeasure or pleasure, Sarah comes bounding back into the room, dressed in a pair of short shorts and a tank top with matching sandals.

            "Sorry about that," she says with a laugh, flicking rogue pieces of her hair behind her ear. "But yeah, my name is Sarah, and well, it seems you've gotten here, by some incredible mistake or coincidence, or wish or something."

            Fortunately for Sarah, Erik wasn't really taking any notice of what she was saying, but more of what she was /wearing/. "I should like you to inform me before you come prancing into your room with your underclothes on." Turning around for taste reasons, he begins to tap his foot. "I will wait whilst you change."

            Sarah blinks and then waits a minute while her brain computes. "Oh, well, this IS what I'm wearing," she says slowly, taking a step back – hoping the masked murderer wouldn't strike out at her. She has a right to be uneasy, really. I mean, there was this weird guy in her house that she was SURE was Erik, and thinks weren't going as planned. She was supposed to be swooning in his arms by now, at least. If she had had it her way, he'd be singing to her, completely in love with her. But no, things never work out according to plan, do they?

            Turning back around slowly, the Phantom takes another look at Sarah's terrible immodest appearance. "Do all girls in your area dress like whores?" A slightly sardonic smirk overcomes his features, as she takes the blow.

            "A whore? You think /I/ look like a whore. You should SEE some of the girls at my school!" It seems her top priority is not to make the strange man in her room angry, and so far, it seems to be working. "Well, anyway, I'm not quite sure WHY you're here, so I guess we should make the most of it." Nervous chuckling follows as she looks at the ground. "I suppose you can sleep here, and – unfortunately I have to leave you alone all day. Find any dark places you can hide in, Erik?" Freezing, she inhales deeply before turning to look at his face. She wasn't supposed to know that. Nope.

            "What, Mademoiselle, did you just call me?" comes the icy answer from across the room. If she could only see the look of surprise the followed that remark she might not have reacted so, well, Sarah-like.

            "I like the name," she offers simply, attempting to sound as nonchalant as she possibly can. "I thought it'd suit you. I mean, you never offered me your REAL name, so I just had to make one up for you, didn't I?"

            Apparently not buying her phony excuse, he walks over to her desk and picks up a battered copy of Susan Kay's 'Phantom' and flips it over to read the back. Staring blankly back at Sarah, who looks like she's ready to turn to a pile of goo, he just inhales deeply. "Does everyone know, about me?"

            This seems to be one of the many times Sarah just wanted to swoon into his arms. Biting her lower lip, she attempts to keep her sigh in check before clearing her throat. "Umm, I suppose. Gaston Leroux wrote a book about you. And you've become quite popular." Not knowing what else to say, she looks into his eyes for his reaction.

            "Oh, so you know everything about me?" Pause. "Then why do you want me here?" He looked utterly and completely confused, thumbing through her book like it was some heathen object.

            "Well, I don't know if any of it really is true. I mean, the authors could have been making the stuff up. Plus, based off of those books, I seem to be helplessly in l – umm, luck with finding your story to be amazing." Nice cover up, Sarah, real smooth.

            "Ahh, well, you see.." And suddenly, Sarah's mother comes bombarding into the room with Sarah's bookbag. "Mary's here, and you're going to be late!" Looking around her room, her mom blinks in the direction of Erik. "Seems rather cold in here."

            Turning a guilty look towards her mother, Sarah coughs and motions for Erik to move a little bit. "Oh, must have been the windows, I opened it during my fever last night."

            Nodding in response, her Mother shoos her out of the room, looks around again, and shrugs. "Oh Sarah, I'll be gone all day. Your sister and I are going shopping.." 

            Turning back towards Erik, Sarah mouths, "I'll call you. Pick up the phone." Pointing to black object on the other side of the room, she gives him a thumbs up before heading out the door. The profile of the Phantom watching her from her bedroom window.


	2. Far from Life

            In the car on the way to school, Sarah was utterly and completely silent, which alarmed her best friend. "Uh, Sars, you okay and all? You seem, out of sorts this morning."

            "Huh? Oh, it's nothing. I had a really weird dream is all. You know, Erik coming gallantly to my rescue and then dieing a tragic death, that sort of thing. Just enough to make me slightly forlorn." Shaking her head, Sarah runs a hand through her shoulder length mousy brown hair and sighs. Looking out the window of the car, she watches the landscapes pass by and wonders quite what she's going to do with her Angel of Music when she gets home.

            Being left in a female's quarters all by himself wasn't Erik's exactly ideal perfect vacation from life. Everything in her room seemed so alien to him, he was downright frightened. Looking at the numerous posters on her walls of movie star hotties, he scoffs and looks down at the ground. Sarah had shown him her stash of books, as well as a notebook of music-lined paper for his use during her absence. Her parting words rung through his head as he stared at the black object she had pointed to. 

            _What matter of devilry is this? he mused, and then went on exploring rooms outside of her own. Finding a generally normal kitchen and a bathroom which contained such things he had never seen before, he worked his way downstairs, opening select doors._

            It seemed Sarah's mood could be described as peevish today, brutally snapping at anyone and anything that ticked her off even in the slightest. Sitting at her lunch table, beside Mary, she stared out the window, thumbing through 'The Phantom of the Opera' as if in a daze, and she'd been humming the song of the same name for most of the day.

            "Seems the Phantom of the Opera /is/ really there, huh? Inside your mind?" one of her friends asks her, laughing and nudging her in the ribs.

            "Huh, oh, yeah. Just tired I guess. I don't feel too well." Nodding, her friends all go back to their former conversations, careful to leave the subject un-breached. Sarah knew that would basically shut them up, and she smiles absently and returns to her day-dreams outside the window. Suddenly remembering something that seems to be extremely important, she jumps like a shot out of her seat and leaves the cafeteria. 

            Suddenly, a loud ringing erupts from the small black object Erik had been holding, and examining. Dropping it, he backs away and watches it, before regaining his composure and pressing the 'on' button. 

            "Hello?" came the familiar voice of his female captor. "Erik? Is that you? Just say something. I promise it won't bite you!"

            "Sarah?"  He asked hesitantly, before he clears his throat. "How do you work this thing? Is it magic?" Once again he took the time to peer at the harmless black box-ish thing in his hand. 

            "No, Erik, it's not magic. But how are you getting along? I'll be home in about two hours. Do NOT take anything apart; I'm begging you, okay? Nothing. Not until I get home. Promise?"

            Quite unnerved by her ordering him about, he sneers. "You would have fun explaining that, wouldn't you?" A familiar sigh echoes from the other end of the line and he immediately promises. Just think what tortures she could force him into with these strange machines.

            "Good, like I said, home in two hours. Don't go anywhere."


	3. A Familiar Feeling

            Hopping out of Mary's car, Sarah offers a jaunty, though forced wave to her friend. "See you tomorrow, dear! Don't worry about me, I'll be fine!" Seems she's blamed her agitation on PMS, and as nervous as she'd been in the car ride home, she'd begun to worry her friend.

            Checking the garage for the car, a sigh of relief escapes her as she fumbles with her purse to find her key. She certainly doesn't want to alarm Erik with the doorbell. That could be disastrous to an object in the house. Opening the front door, she peers around before yelling, "I'm home!" and walking straight to her room, where she expects to see the form of the masked man. When nothing in her room looks out of place, and the masked man /isn't/ there, Sarah begins to panic.

            "Erik?! Where are you?" Running down the stairs, she finds a door ajar, which is a pretty good sign at this stage in her dread. Heading towards the playroom, she finds him, finally, but doesn't move to distract him. In fact, a slow smile spreads across her face, and well – you guessed it, another sigh escapes her lips.

            It seems, that the man that had haunted her dreams had befriended her cat. The Abyssinian feline was purring loud enough that Sarah could hear her from the doorway, and was rubbing her head forcefully against Erik's right hand. Looking around the room, Abby spots her mistress, and hops from her window ledge to rub Sarah's legs. 

            "Hello honey," Sarah coos from her spot, careful not to meet Erik's gaze as she kneels down to give the cat's head a caress. "Have you been a good girl today?" Grabbing a jar of cat treats, she throws one in the corner and motions for Erik to follow her out of the room.

            Following his female captor, Erik pauses to shut the door and then stare at the scantily clad girl. "You have a very beautiful animal. What breed is she?"

            "Abyssinian, and her name is Abby, original – I know," she offers with a smirk. "But yes, she is very pretty, and somewhat fat. She's also pretty skittish, I'm amazed she let you get near her." Hopping onto the couch in the basement, Sarah laughs. 

            "I'm good with cats," Erik offers icily before literally jumping. It seems Sarah has turned on the television. 

            "I can't miss Trading Spaces," Sarah says with a wink towards Erik, as she pats the space on the couch next to her. "C'mon, like I said, it won't bite." Moving slowly, the man simply stares at the TV. "I don't know how it works, so don't even ask me, okay? I really don't. And I don't intend on letting you take it apart to find out." 

            Suddenly, the phone rings, a different model, a white one located in the desk beside the couch. This causes Erik to walk over to it and pick it up. Sarah, however, lunges for it, and grabs it out of his bony hands. "Hello?" Pause. Flickering her gaze to meet Erik's she swallows and laughs nervously. "Oh hey, Eric. What's up?"

            Erik is downright confused now. Why is she talking to HIM on the little object when he's right there? "Up? I suppose the ceiling.." After getting a glare shot to him from the teenage girl, she continues her conversation. 

            "Saturday? Oh, I suppose. Sounds good to me. Yeah, I'll see you there. Right, seven o'clock. Okay. Bye!" As she settles the phone back into the phone cradle, she sighs.

            "I'm right here, there was no need to attempt to contact me through the box," the Phantom says absently, thumbing through her copy of Gaston Leroux's version of the book. 

            "Oh, no.. That's another Eric. His name is even spelled differently. He goes to my school. We sort of, you know, like each other." 

            "If he's courting you, I'd say he has a strange way of going about it," Erik surmises, smirking under his mask. "You shouldn't have said yes."

            "I have a right to say yes to whomever I want to," Sarah retorts, before returning towards the TV, feeling defeated. Why did Eric have to call just then? They were making progress, good happy lovely progress. They were having a decent conversation and were about to settle down and watch some TV. It was perfect. Stupid boyfriend-wannabe-man.


	4. And into Dreams

            Erik is being, well, Erik as he sits down in a chair beside this female who happened to bring him into her life. Staring at the pictures on the screen, he thinks about his situation. _Have you any idea what you're in for? I mean, she /seems/ normal and nice enough, but you never know. She could expose you. She could lock you up somewhere. _Suddenly, other head voice comes into play. _Like whom is she going to show you to? No one can see you but HER! It's not like she could really exploit you. Besides, she seems nice. Confused, innocent, and stressed, but nice enough. Humph._

            After the show is over, Sarah sits up and offers a meek smile towards him before pushing herself off the couch. "Hey, do you mind if I took a nap for a little bit? It's sort of my ritual and all. Go home. Watch Trading Spaces. Take nap. Eat dinner. Role-play. Go to bed again." Nudging her head towards the door to the upstairs, she laughs. 

            "Are you sick, Sarah?" he asks calmly, looking the pretty much healthy looking sixteen-year-old girl over for any signs of illness.

            "Oh, I don't know. Probably," she offers offhandedly. "Are you coming or not?" Yes, that's it, drop the subject of illness. Heading up the stairs, she turns back, "C'mon. Up to my room again."

            As there is no reply, she trudges back down the stares to find Erik looking deep in thought. "You think you're probably sick?"

            Oh geez. "Erik, listen it's nothing major. I just have a slightly less than normal immune system which leads me to get sick a lot. I'm tired almost all the time, so I need to get my rest. So c'mon okay? Don't want me to get anymore stressed than I already am!"

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            Settling down in her bed, Sarah snuggles into the comforter. "I'm much happier horizontal than I am vertical," she says with a laugh and then blushing. That came out totally and completely wrong. Though Erik doesn't seem to notice. _Good Lord, he's as unperverted as they come. I gotta get me one. Heh._ Rolling over, she yawns and waves a hand in his direction. "G'night Erik. Wake me up in an hour or two, would you?"

            As there's no reply, she assumes that it's an affirmative and goes to sleep.

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            Upon waking, naturally, I might add, from her slumber, Sarah takes the time to blink and look around the room. No sign of him. At all. "Maybe I /was/ dreaming," she says with a sigh as she thuds back into her mattress. "I knew it was too cool to be true.."

            Just then, Erik chose the moment to enter with something in his hand. "Here, drink this. It ought to make you better." The concoction was a vile looking yellow color, and didn't smell any better than it looked.

            "God, Erik, what did you make this out of?" Taking the cup, she wrinkles her nose before looking back up at him. "And how do you even know what's wrong with me. The /docters/ don't even know what's wrong with me!" However, she plugs her nose and drinks the stuff.

            "Don't worry, there's nothing really depraved in there," he reassures her, before her eyes start to flutter. "Oh, and it should make you pretty drowsy.." Pause. "Christ, she is weak." Staring down at the sleeping form of his assailant, he inhales deeply and pulls her computer chair over to her bed. To monitor her temperature, of course. And to ease the nightmares that are sure to follow his medication, he softly begins to sing.. 

            _"__Laisse-moi, laisse-moi….. contempler ton visage sous la pâle claret. Laisse-moi, Laisse-moi…"_


	5. And out of Reality

            After drinking the formerly mentioned vile concoction, Sarah finds herself in what seems to be an alternate world. "What /was/ that stuff?"

            "You! Skeleton boy! C'mon, the caravan is about to leave!"

            Hold on a second. Boy? "Hey, wait a second.." Pause. Raising a hand to her throat, she blinks. She doesn't sound like herself. In fact, she sounds quite like a boy. "He made me switch GENDERS?!" Urg. Raising a hand to brush the hair out of her eyes, she blinks; her hand brushing across a hard object adhered to her face. "A mask."

            "Ye'd better get yer arse movin', eh Erik? Or else they'll be mad at ye," the gypsy man offered with a slightly awkward shrug.

            Sinking into the dirt on the ground, Sarah raises her gloved hand to her face. "I'm Erik. The Phantom of the Opera. Skeleton boy." Oh dear. This can't be a good thing. Suddenly the background shimmers and fades into a detailed Persian palace.

            "Oh craaaaap," she moans before clearing her throat and making a sweep of her cape. "I always wanted to do that," she says to the wall before laughing somewhat maniacally. Coughing, she regains her Erik-like countenance, and holds her head up high. Walking straight into the apartments of the shah, or at least what she hoped was the shah. Too bad she didn't have her books with her right now.

            "Erik!" the call came shrilly from a balcony. "I want a bigger and better torture chamber; however, I hear you have been planning that castle in all of your spare time."

            "Madame," she starts, attempting to sound as though Erik would, but that's impossible, since she's absolutely frightened. However, once again the background dissolves into nothingness, and the form of a house looms up ahead. A house with ivy-lined walls, a hauntingly strange melody floating through her mind, reminding her that she's still herself, not some character from a story.

            Taking a step backwards, she sinks into the ground once more, staring up at the sky. "Erik? Where are you? I'm not you? Help me! ERIK! ERIK??"

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            "ERIK!" shooting up in bed, Sarah screams. Inhaling and exhaling forcibly, she feels hands on both of her shoulders. Turning to look at the owner of the hands, she offers a pained whimper before running a hand though her hair. 

            "It was so terrible, Erik. So terrible." Tears welled in her eyes as she leans forward, to cry on his bony shoulder, but oh no. More interruptions are in order, don't you think?

            "Sarah? Sarah, are you okay?" her mother comes bursting into the room, drawing her daughter from the invisible man's arms.

            Laughing nervously, Sarah manages to gain a little more color in her cheeks. "Oh, yes, Mum, just a bad dream is all. Can you leave me alone? I need to think about it."

            Raising an eyebrow, her mother nods and leaves, a worried expression overlapping the one of fear. Shutting the door, she leaves Sarah alone, well, not completely alone.

            "You were pretty weak," he comments, looking the sweating and pale shadow of the girl that had always seemed invulnerable, at least, to him. "I'm sorry about inflicting those nightmares on you, but if you'll notice, you're feeling much better now, or at least, I hope so."

            Blinking, Sarah pauses for a second and offers a wide grin. "I do feel a little better. Not so tired, I think. I can't quite put my finger on the rest, but yes, I do feel much better."

            "Good," Erik comments before looking at the ground. "I was in your nightmares, correct? You kept murmuring my name in your sleep."

            Staring straight at the wall, Sarah manages a nod. "I was you from your earlier life. Erik, you suffered so much."

            Strangely, these weren't the sort of nightmares he'd expected, and at that, he manages to loose his complete composure for a few seconds. "Don't pity me," he says with an icy tone intruding on what had been a worried voice only a minute prior. 

            "I don't," she answers simply, but then looks over at him. "Does the name Christine Daae mean anything to you?"

            "What, the new chorus girl at the Opera house? No. I've heard her mentioned, but never seen her before," he answers, and a sorrowful look appears on her face. "Have I upset you?"

            Shaking her head, she laughs, "Of course not. I just, here." Handing him a book, she grins and seats herself in front of the computer. "Read this, alright?" Shooting a slightly scornful look his way, she simply turns the machine on and sighs. "I'm not angry, or upset. Just confused, I guess. Why would you come BEFORE all of that? It makes absolutely no sense. None at all


End file.
